


worry

by deviijho



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Emotional, F/F, Light Corruption, Literally. corruption and its light aether, No Lesbians Die, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, asta is a basket case but pretends like she isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviijho/pseuds/deviijho
Summary: She'd never admit it, but Asta worries.Basically me telling the end of Shadowbringers but with my friend's WOL and my character who serves the purpose of another Scion. They are gay marriaged and lesbians
Relationships: Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)/Female Original Character, Original WOL/Original Character(s), Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	worry

She’d never admit it, but Asta worries.

When she’d been dragged to the First, she thought about the world she left behind--and worried. About the wife who was now alone on the Source.

When Fyra had arrived, she thought about the war at home--and worried. About her people who were still fighting for freedom.

When she and the rest of the Scions began to hunt the Lightwardens, she saw Fyra absorbing the Light--and  _ worried _ . About how her wife seemed to suffer even as the people of Norvrandt cheered. 

Even now, as they stand at the gates of Amaurot, she can’t help but look at her and worry. Y’shtola's comments ring in her ears like dull bells, warning of misfortune to come.

_ “You deserve to know, Asta. Fyra’s aether is unlike any I could ever imagine. The Light is corrupting her.” _

It seemed too horrific to be true at the time, but after watching her collapse after the defeat of Vauthry, Asta wonders how much more time they have. 

“Hey,” Fyra whispers, loud enough so Asta can hear, but quietly enough so that the surrounding Scions don’t. Her fingers graze Asta’s hand, and she grabs it, fingers interlocking. The two remain staring ahead, breathing in near-unison. 

“I know how bad it is,” Fyra mutters. “If I…”

“Don’t. For my sake, don’t even entertain the thought.” Asta squeezes her palm, tears threatening to well up in her eyes. “I love you.”

She feels Fyra reciprocate the squeeze. “I love you too.”

For better or worse, Asta invites herself to go through the damned Amaurot. Every time she has to heal Fyra, she feels that much more guilty. What if she’s unintentionally making the corruption worse? She can’t very well just  _ not _ heal; it’s just another thing she has to worry over. 

* * *

As they and the Scions stand facing Emet-Selch, she grits her teeth and clenches her fists.

_ “Well, well, you prevailed...Nevertheless!” _

A wall of darkness collides with her body. She and the Scions fly backwards, all but Fyra collapsing.

“Your performance was underwhelming, and I remain unconvinced of your worthiness...Oh, you tower over your misbegotten ilk, no doubt. But should I bring my full strength to bear, well… you would be as leaves in the wind.”

Asta props herself up on her hands, trying to put one foot on the ground for some stability.

“The gulf between us is a reflection of the disparity between the world as it was… and what it has become,” Emet continues. 

In the corner of her eye, Alisaie flies out to strike him.

“Our worlds may not live up to your lofty standards,” she hisses. “But they are our worlds! Our homes! Full of life and..love and..hope! And we won’t stand by and let you destroy them!” 

Emet repels her. 

“ _ You are a mistake. _ ”

What Alphinaud says escapes Asta’s mind. She struggles to her feet as he cradles Alisaie, eyes widening in horror as she sees Emet-Selch attacking the two Leveilleurs. The same eyes flock to see Fyra slowly rising to her feet, pain plain as day in her eyes. 

She takes her first steps. 

_ “Still fighting the good fight…” _

Urianger blocks an incoming attack. He and Y’shtola yell something, but Asta hobbles after her wife. Her heart pounds as Fyra seems to erupt into light. The paladin drops to her knees. 

_ “Surrender to your fate, and let the transformation take you!” _

She and Ryne run to Fyra’s side, but something pierces their chests. Asta slides and trips on her feet, back slamming against the ground. Fyra collapses right next to her. Asta weakly lifts an arm, shaking as her fingers graze Fyra’s convulsing body. 

“I love you, Fyra,” she mumbles, eyes fluttering shut.

* * *

The next thing she feels is arms around her shoulders, lifting her onto her feet. They may disagree on most things, but Asta is grateful for Thancred’s help. In his hand he clutches a white auracite, head turned to a colony of masks before them. 

_ “WHAT OF THIS ANGUISH WHICH YET BURNS IN MY BREAST...EVEN AFTER THE PASSING OF EONS?” _

“Let’s move,” Y’shtola shouts. Thancred leaps at the creature, slicing the auracite so it pierces Hades. Alongside the Scions, Asta raises a hand to weaken the Ascian. She watches as Fyra manifests an axe of light, driving it into the beast’s chest.

The void parts; Amaurot is full of light. Sunrise illuminates Emet-Selch as he stands before them, a gaping hole where his stomach ought to be. He speaks to Fyra briefly, and Asta can’t help but notice... _ she seems fine _ . A far cry from the convulsions she had just seen, for sure.

“Her aether,” Y’shtola mutters. “It is as it used to be. . . I can but assume that when you set your strength against his, the Light was spent…”

“It’s more than that,” Ryne argues. “Under the strain of that incredible flood of aether, your soul had begun to break apart...but it now seems almost...restored.” 

Fyra casts her gaze upon the axe riddled with light, and Asta watches as it vanishes.

“I had help from a hero of this world,” the paladin admits.

It seems to be “Question the Warrior of Light” time, but Asta can’t even summon the words to say anything. Seeing Fyra after she had struggled so, the tears that once welled up in Amaurot fall in full force. She pulls Fyra into a hug, and if she were any less composed, Asta would fall to her knees. 

“I never doubted you for a second,” she gasps, hiccups and heaving breaths betraying her stoic words. Fyra’s arms close around her, and the tears fall anew. Asta scrambles to get a grip on her, to hold her as tightly as she possibly can--as if Fyra would float away if not tethered down. 

"I'm real, I'm here," Fyra chants, her reassurance driving yet another stake of emotion into Asta's heart. "You think I'd really die after something this minor? Have a little faith in me!" The two laugh even as they weep, every inhale as sharp and heaving as the last.

“I love you so fucking much,” Asta gasps.

“I love you too,” Fyra hums.

**Author's Note:**

> I hate that AO3 doesn't have indents so much it isn't even funny


End file.
